


My Good Side

by jaskier-cult (May1974)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Jaskier | Dandelion's Childhood, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Beta Read, Shadow Jaskier | Dandelion, i really don't know what else to tag, if continued would be geraskier, we die like jaskier doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May1974/pseuds/jaskier-cult
Summary: “Who are you?”“I’m Julian!”“But you can’t be Julian!”“Why not?”“Because I’m Julian!”“Hmm … how about –”
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	My Good Side

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if this is worth a second part! Also, yes, the title is a pun with mirrors, please ignore my mediocre sense of humor.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Julian!”

“But you can’t be Julian!”

“Why not?”

“Because _I’m_ Julian!”

“Hmm … how about –” 

<><><><>

Julian is gifted an enchanted (read: cursed) mirror. It’s a gift to him when he is naught a few hours old, still a babe, and the witch says it’s so he “will always have a friend.” It’s placed in his room, and he grows up with it. In it, he can never see his true reflection; instead, he sees his shadow twin. A mocking reflection of him that is not him.

His parents think it a meager parlour trick and leave Julian to play with it. 

The reflection gains a personality and mind of its own as Julian grows up, and at first, it felt like he really had a twin. A brother who he could share everything with, who he grew up with, and whom he could always trust and go back to. 

Julian Alfred Pankratz was the youngest of five boys under his noble father and it felt like he never got the same attention as his elder brothers. The shadow in the mirror – Dandelion, they decided together on calling him, while laughing “Dandelion and Buttercup!” their personal nicknames that no one else knew – looked just like him. He had the same mannerisms, he had the same face, he had the same voice, and he had the same eyes.

But he was different because he wasn’t physically real.

He was just a shadow.

Everyday, Buttercup – Julian’s nickname, gifted to him by Dandelion, who was enraptured by the little yellow flowers Julian picked to show to his shadow twin – would leave in the morning, and come back at night and sit in front of his mirror and talk to Dandelion about all the things that caught his attention.

But Dandelion grew to feel jealous.

Julian placated him, saying that it just wasn’t possible to lug his enchanted mirror around everywhere, and that he would always share everything with Dandelion, so he was never excluded.

Imagine the shock and fear from Julian one day, when Dandelion showed up in a different mirror, facing his pseudo brother in the dining room. Dandelion somehow followed him.

After laughing it off, though a bit unsettled – because he thought it was just the one mirror that was enchanted? And that Dandelion came from only the one mirror? – the two made it a game and had a lot more fun when Dandelion was able to follow Julian in the real world.

The thing was, Dandelion became stronger as time went on.

Soon, he could appear in almost any reflective surface; shop windows, reflections off smooth blades, on the still pond surface.

Dandelion felt stronger, too. He felt more important and powerful being able to see more of the world. But he found that he was bound to Julian, and no matter how much he wanted to visit any mirror he wanted, he was always forced back to Julian’s side at the end of the day. He became bitter because he wanted his own life and his own Destiny. He was his own person, not a copy, not a simple spell, or an enchantment – Julian was lying, he had to be!

Julian, unaware of the growing malicious intent from Dandelion, continued to talk to Dandelion and share his life with his shadow twin.

But Dandelion became greedy.

He began to emotionally manipulate Julian. He bullied him, talked down to him, did anything he could to make himself feel stronger and superior to his “brother.”

This made him stronger.

Dandelion began to influence the outside world. He could manipulate shadows and travel with them, peek out of them and watch the humans, still not physical, but one step closer to escaping the mirrors. 

<><><><>

One day Julian realized Dandelion wasn’t actually his friend.

It wasn’t obvious. It didn’t hit him in one fell swoop.

He realized it slowly.

Julian realized Dandelion wasn’t his friend in the way he felt anxiety creep up on him every time Dandelion brought up his limitations, said that Julian didn’t understand and was using him, and guilted Julian into sharing more private details, forced Julian to do things _he_ wanted to do. It was ridiculous – how could a mere shadow force anyone to do anything? 

But then Julian’s chest would squeeze painfully, and a pit would form in his stomach, every time Dandelion looked him in the eyes – _blue eyes just like his_ – and Julian would always give in to Dandelion. Always. 

Julian would do anything for his shadow twin, because he had to.

But then Dandelion knocked a vase over with a shadow turned physical, and Julian was promptly blamed, and then things started to get scary.

Dandelion wasn’t his brother anymore.

Dandelion wasn’t his shadow, wasn’t his reflection.

Dandelion was a shadow walker.

Julian never tells his parents, lest they hurt Dandelion, for Dandelion couldn’t do anything to protect himself, and Julian could never betray Dandelion like that.

Nonetheless, Julian couldn’t help but feel intimidated by Dandelion. It was stupid, he told himself; Dandelion was an enchantment, was just a shadow, he wasn’t actually real. But that was no longer true, because Dandelion _was_ real, and was beginning to leak into the physical world.

Every time Julian sat down at night to talk to Dandelion – like he had always done, ever since he was old enough to talk and realize the reflection in the mirror wasn’t really _him_ – he felt uncomfortable and vaguely trapped. He really didn’t want to send his only friend away – because all the village children called Julian creepy, and different, and never wanted to play with him – but any time he tried to voice his worries about Dandelion’s behaviour or new abilities, Dandelion would dismiss it or get angry.

Julian tried to avoid Dandelion after months of this, feeling small and upset and conflicted, but this only further enraged his shadow. 

“Why don’t you visit me anymore, Buttercup?” Dandelion would say with a sickly-sweet voice, but it was always false. It makes Julian feel trapped again, and guilty. “You said you would always come back to me. I thought we were friends?”

Soon, Dandelion begins to take a more physical shape, and Julian quickly falls severely ill.

Unknown to Julian and his family, Dandelion is feeding off his life force. 

Julian tells his parents that he doesn’t want to play with Dandelion anymore. 

The enchanted mirror is covered and shoved into storage. If Julian never looks into a mirror ever again, then Dandelion can never appear again, right? 

Then one day, it reaches a catalyst.

Julian was sat in front of a mirror by his servant, being prepared for a special dinner with some noble cousins and their mage, despite him being deathly pale and ill. And he’s scared, because he had asked for all reflective surfaces to be removed from his room, and turned away from the shadows and never looked, no matter how delirious he sounded or looked, and his parents had just assumed he was having a fight with his shadow.

_Something like that_ , he thought bitterly.

And Julian is scared to look in the mirror because he’s scared he’ll see Dandelion instead. It’s not the enchanted mirror, long ago put away so Julian would never see Dandelion again, but Dandelion was still showing up in other surfaces. And the young noble fears how enraged his shadow brother is going to be after being ignored for over a week.

But when he’s forced to turn, he blinks, and it is only Julian.

For the first time in his life, he sits in front of a mirror, and all that stares back is his own reflection.

Relief sweeps through him.

And then his reflection grins coldly, malicious, with sharp teeth, and Julian’s stomach _drops_.

Blue eyes bore into his, and suddenly a hand is reaching out for him – _coming out of the mirror_ – and it grabs him by the collar, claws growing and digging into his throat, pulling him toward the glass. Julian passes through the mirror like it is water, and he _screams_.

Someone bursts into the room from behind him, his servant yelling something, and a blast of Chaos is shot at the mirror. There’s a high-pitched shriek from Dandelion – or, what used to be Dandelion – and shadows shoot forth from the mirror, engulfing Julian. 

<><><><>

Jaskier means “buttercup” in Polish. It’s perfect. 

<><><><>

Jaskier sings about shadow walkers in Posada. Admittedly, not his best composition, but he still has trouble remembering the time before. The least he can do is warn others through his music. 

<><><><>

“They don’t exist.”

Jaskier doesn’t follow.

“The monsters you sang about.”

Jaskier bites his lip painfully. He blinks and fights to keep a placating smile.

“And how would you know?” 

<><><><>

Geralt watches as Jaskier readies himself for the day, movements graceful and practiced, slipping on his clothes and styling his hair, all without the help of a mirror or reflection to make sure everything is in order. He doesn’t even struggle with the ties of his smallclothes, tricky and on his back, fingers deftly tying the knots, like he could do it in his sleep.

It took a while, but Geralt realized what he found odd about this habit of his bard’s.

Jaskier never looks in mirrors.

The bard never looks in mirrors, or looking stones, or shop windows, or still lakes. Never. He never looks at his reflection. Never. Even when preparing for an important noble performance, or when he needs to wash himself of grime and dirt, he never uses a mirror. Never.

Geralt finds it odd that such a vain bard doesn’t like to look at his reflection.

<><><><>

Jaskier walks a little too well in the dark.

Specifically, in the shadows.

Jaskier laughs and dances and skips when they travel at night, like it’s a happy, beautiful world, and nothing can hurt his painfully mortal body and life.

Like there aren’t monsters in those shadows he travels so easily through.

<><><><>

“I was called creepy when I was little,” the bard said to him one night, sitting by the fire, mood somber. The bard doesn’t look creepy. Geralt can think of much worse things to be called. “All the kids my age called me creepy and scary, and no one ever wanted to play with me. But that was okay, because I always had my shadow to play with.”

The bard turns and gives him a small smile.

The shadows seemed to leak from his skin, engulfing the camp in the flickering light, the bard’s eyes deep-set and burning in the dark. His smile is too wide. His cheeks are too sharp.

For the briefest moment, the bard didn’t look quite human.

Geralt’s blood turns cold and a shiver runs up his spine.

His hands itch to grab his blade.

“I felt lonely. I guess that’s why I feel a kinship with you.”

The bard looks away.

Geralt’s hands stop itching, and the shadows slip away.

The moment passes.

And the bard is once again human.

<><><><>

Lambert watched Jaskier leave the room, yellow eyes trailing on his back, until he was finally out of sight. He turned to Geralt, his brows furrowed.

“So … what is he?”

Geralt looked up at his brother in confusion. “Hmm?”

“What the fuck is your bard supposed to be?”

“Human?” But it sounded more like a question to a question.

Lambert briefly looked at where Jaskier had left, expression uneasy. He shook his head. “Whatever he is, he’s the furthest thing from human.” 


End file.
